


Elf on the Mantel.

by TheMirkyKing



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Barduil - Freeform, Christmas Fluff, Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2018, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 10:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMirkyKing/pseuds/TheMirkyKing
Summary: Bard gets an unexpected Christmas Eve surprise!





	Elf on the Mantel.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wenderful52](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wenderful52/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Wenderful52! And all other readers!  
> So I was your secret Santa, and things did not go as planned. :0  
> My first story for you was lost, thank you computer glitch, then this little story just kept demanding to be written, which I really hope you like, even if it's not quite what you requested?!?  
> And THEN my message to let them know I was running late never got to them (really need a new computer) - Thus the TWO presents for you!! WooHoo!! :D The art is probably the better present -LOL (Loved it btw! ;)  
> Anyways, wishing you a very Merry Christmas my friend!!

Bard collapsed into the armchair next to the roaring fire and let out an exhausted breath. Their first Christmas Eve party in their new house had been a huge success. Bard snorted at himself as he took a sip of wine and glanced around the room. “House” was an understatement. It was a turn of the century mansion, a grand place on extensive grounds with a forest right on the edge of the property. 

He couldn’t believe it when the realtor showed him around the house. It was beautiful place and the price? Well below market, which made Bard suspicious, something major had to be wrong with it. So he asked and the answer made him almost laugh.

“It’s haunted.” The realtor informed him.

“Seriously?” 

“Honest to God!” The realtor said. Bard stared at him in disbelief. The man chuckled. “I swear. Each and every time it goes back on the market the reason given is that it’s haunted.”  
“Haunted?” Bard shook his head in bewilderment. “Like in ghosts…”

“No, no, nothing like that. Nothing bad has happened here.” The man reassured Bard as they moved from the foyer to the great room. “I use “haunted” for lack of a better word for what they say happens.”

“And what exactly happens?” Bard asked as he took turn around the room. The man shrugged as they moved on to the next room, smaller but still boasting a fireplace with an ornate mantel piece.

“People say things go missing…that they hear voices, movement in the walls, ect…” He trailed off at Bard’s skeptical look. “I know, I know, personally I think it’s a bunch of hooey, most likely mice…which I assure you there are none!” He hastily added. “I would jump at this place myself.”

Mice Bard could deal with, especially at the price it was going for, still… “So why don’t you?” Bard asked. 

“My wife is superstitious.” The man sighed, rolling his eyes. “Said she would never live in a haunted house, no matter how grand or cheap it is.” 

Bard laughed and made an offer. It was beyond perfect for his family and too good of an opportunity to pass up, haunted or not

Although the realtor hadn’t been lying, once they were settled into the house, Bard became aware of thing indeed going missing or moved. Mostly food items, like packets of oatmeal, biscuits, tea bags, or sugar. Bard figured it was the kids eating more but they all said they hadn’t. 

As summer came and the veggie garden they had started ripened, it happened there too. Woes of a garden, critter’s saw a free lunch. So nets went up, over and around; a worthy deterrent to most thieving varmints; yet the cherry tomatoes, peas, and various other veggies kept disappearing. Bard eyed the crows, stellar jays and squirrels certain it was their doing.

It finally came to a head one morning when he opened the butter dish to find it almost gone.

“Damn it all to hell!” Bard fumed as he slammed the knife down next to his toast.

“Swear jar!” Tilda trilled from the breakfast table, grinning up from the book she was reading. Bain barely stopped eating as he watched a video on his phone. Sigrid looked up from her phone, frowning at him.

“What’s wrong Da?” Sigrid asked. 

“I just took out a stick of butter yesterday and look!” Bard stabbed the small pat of butter on the end of his knife and held it up. “This is all that is left!”

Sigrid sighed and shook her head and went back to texting. “Just get another stick Da.” She huffed. Bard yanked open the fridge and got out more. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would blame it on mice!” He grumbled, knowing that wasn’t the case as he had just had the exterminators out after hearing the tale-tell sounds of scurrying in the walls.

“It’s not mice Da!” Tilda informed him, putting her book down and fixing him with a knowing look. “It’s the little people!”

Bain let out a guffaw. “There’s no such thing as little people, dummy.” He snapped at her.

Tilda rounded on him. “There is so! I saw them!”

“You did not,” Bain groaned. “It was just a squirrel or something.”

“It was a tiny woman! I saw her running from the veggie garden and into the forest.”

“Did not!” Bain snarled.

“Did too!” Tilda yelled back. 

Bard took a deep breath as he poured coffee. He let them squabble; they usually settled their disagreements on their own, frequently growing tired of it. This time, the back and forth became more heated.

“You’re a liar!” Bain spat. Tilda gasped, drawing back, eyes filling with tears. Bain’s face flushed even as he glared at her.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bard stepped in. “That is way out of line!” Bard chastised his son. 

“But she is Da!” Bain protested. Bard sighed, frowning down at him.

“I am not lying!” Tilda practically screamed.

“Alright that is ENOUGH!” Bard raised his voice, gathering all attention to him, even Sigrid. “Bain, apologize to your sister.”

Bain’s surly attitude was barely contained as he muttered “Why should I? She is the one making stuff up.”

Bard studied his son. He was at that awkward age, not ready to be an “adult” but also not wanting to be seen as indulging in childish behavior like make believe, yet still acting like one at times. Bard reached out and rested his hand on Bain’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“Because even if she is making it up, she believes it,” Bard said softly. “It doesn’t make her a liar…” He smiled at a sniffing Tilda. “It just makes her….Imaginative, like me!” Bard winked.  


Bain heaved in a deep breath. “Fine! Sorry Tilda.”

Tilda wiped her eyes and gave a nod. 

“Okay, I think it’s time for you guys to get moving for school.” Bain and Tilda scrambled from the table, a few muttered insults were exchanged, which Bard couldn’t catch.

Sigrid stood and picked up Tilda’s book. She snorted. “This might explain Tilda’s over active imagination!” She handed him the book, kissed his cheek and left the kitchen. 

Bard chuckled and shook his head as he read the title: The Borrowers. “Indeed it does!” He sighed as he laid the book down.

Bard roused himself from his musings. The small thefts were still going on. Even he had caught movement from the corner of his eye on more than one occasion. Always nothing when he turned to look; and the voices he swore drifted from the ceiling? Had to be drafts, Bard wasn’t lacking in the flights of fancy department himself. Speaking of flights of fancy...”Santa” needed to make his appearance. 

Bard got up and put on his favorite Christmas music. He kept the volume down, not that the kids would hear, they had gone to bed hours earlier. When Bard came up to check on them, Tilda and Bain were dead to the noisy guest and neighbors having a good time in the ballroom. Sigrid had been up and chatting online with a friend. She groaned about; “A bunch of adults acting like idiots.” When she saw him poke his head in, grinning at her, she added “My father is the worst of the lot!” Sticking her tongue at him and then grinning.

That had been at 11pm and glancing at the clock, it was now ONE AM?! God’s he needed to get moving! Tilda was an early morning girl on Christmas. Bard quickly gathered up the goodies, trinkets, and the special “Santa” presents he had hidden. He made short work of the cookies and milk left for Santa (with the appropriate amount of crumbs left). He took down the stockings from the mantel. He paused to admire it. Sigrid had done a wonderful job. A garland of evergreen boughs, colored lights, and holly covered it. Two tiny street lamps that lit up flanked a jolly Santa. His sleigh and reindeer on one side of the mantel and on the other side…

Bard wrinkled his nose in distaste as he glanced away. He did NOT like that elf doll! How he wished it had gotten “lost” in the move; no such luck. He thought it was creepy, though Tilda and Bain loved it. He cursed the day it was given to them, via Sigrid. He told her calmly he would have no part in it. Unfortunately, Sigrid was only too happy to take on the job with the added bonus of tormenting him with it, moving it around, usually into areas that would cause him to start at the sight of it. Normally it would end up on tree come Christmas Eve but Sigrid put it up on mantel before heading upstairs. Bard wished she had stuck to the tree. At least it wasn’t as noticeable to him there.

Stocking in hand he plopped down in the armchair, poured a little more wine and began to sort and fill the stockings. A glass down, Bard was feeling very relaxed and happy, when his favorite Christmas songs came on and soon he was singing along. From the corner of his eye he caught movement on the mantle, which he dismissed as either the fire or the colored lights blinking. The music faded and from the mantel Bard heard a small sigh followed by “You have a lovely voice!”

Bard glanced at the mantel, down to the stocking in his hands, with an automatic “Thank you” spilling out. Bard’s head whipped up and back, eyes wide, mouth dropping open in shock.  
There looking down at him was a little man! Bard rubbed his eyes. Had someone slipped something into the wine? No, no, no! It was just that dumb doll, except when he uncovered his eyes there was no mistaking what he was seeing.

A little man lay on the mantel, chin on his hands, his legs swaying back and forth behind his back, a dreamy smile on his face. Bard jumped up and the little man scrambled to his feet, backing away as Bard came closer. The dreamy look was replaced with caution when he bumped into the elf doll.  


Bard reached out with trembling finger to poke the little man (to make certain this was not just a figment of his imagination or wine), lightning fast, the little man swatted his finger away. Bard jerked his hand away; heart pounding…oh this was real.

“Rude!” The little man snapped.

“Excuse me?” Bard said in astonishment.

“Excuse you indeed!’ The man smoothed his green jacket down and fixed Bard with an arched brow. “Do you make it a habit to poke people you don’t know?” 

Bard was flabbergasted, trying to come up with a response. The man folded his arms and leaned against the elf doll. “Well?” 

Bard’s eyes narrowed and he shot back, “Do you make it a habit to spy on people when their alone?” 

A sly smile spread over the little man’s face, “Always!” He replied, biting his lip, giving Bard the once over. Bard stiffened, cheeks heating. Was he getting checked out by a man no bigger than a Ken doll? The look also made him wonder just where and when he had been spied on. 

“Rude yourself!” Bard countered which made the man laugh and shrug.

“What can I say? One must be aware of potentially dangerous situations at all times.”

“Dangerous situations?” 

The man gave Bard a withering look. Bard couldn’t believe a person (what was he actually?) so small could have such a big attitude. “When you’re my size, EVERYTHING can be a danger, ESPECIALLY humans!”

Bard flinched at the suggestion. “I would never harm…a…erm …a…”

“An elf.” 

“Right,” Bard gave a nod. “Like I said I would never harm an elf or any other…fairy creature?!”

“Maybe not on purpose but it happens….poison gas being pumped into walls for mice for instance…”

“OH MY GOD!” Bard swallowed hard at this. “The exterminators! Don’t tell me someone was…was killed because…”

The elf shook his head and stepped closer to Bard’s hand gripping the edge of the mantel. “Heaven’s no!” He cautiously patted Bard’s hand. “Luckily some of the scouts overheard you calling them so everyone cleared out for a few days.”

Relief flooded Bard before the “everyone” sunk in. “How many live here actually?” Bard quired. “Where do you live? In the cellar? The attic?” The elf glanced away, fidgeting with the pompoms on his jacket. “If there is a bunch of you why do we never see you?

“We don’t live in the house.” The elf finally answered. “Most humans don’t “see” what they don’t understand. Besides, we are masters of blending in.” 

“Oh, yes…I can clearly see how your clothing camouflages you!” Bard said dryly. “You almost match your Elf buddy there!”

The elf stiffened, yanking off the pointed hat he wore, face flushing as he sneered at the doll, giving it a shove. “More like a hobgoblin!”

Bard laughed, agreeing with him on that. He thought hobgoblin was about right. Wait… “Are you serious? Are there such things as hobgoblins?”

The elf regarded him like he was stupid. “Sure there are, hobgoblins, dwarves, sprites, pixies…they all live around here.”

“No wonder my grocery bill is so big!” Bard exclaimed.

The elf grinned. “Everyone was happy to see this place occupied again and the other houses are so far away to forage from.”

“Can’t you forage or hunt in the woods?” Bard demanded.

“Of course we can, it’s just exhausting.” The elf huffed. “Snitching ready made food is easier and tastier, though I do enjoy roasted beetles greatly.”

Bard made a face. “Beetles?”

“Beetles, grubs, mice or even…cat.” 

“CAT!?” Bard gasped. The elf snickered. “Oh…oh I see; you’re pulling my leg aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.” The elf grinned but it faded as he added, “More often it’s the cats hunting us.” He shuddered. “I’m glad you don’t have any dogs or cats, makes life so much harder.”

“Tilda, my youngest, has been begging for a dog.” The elf grimaced. “Well, I can get her a hamster instead, as long as you promise not to make a meal out of it.”

“Never!” The elf exclaimed. “Pets are strictly off limits!”

“So pets are off limits but everything else is up for grabs?”

“We don’t take that much really.”

Bard smiled, “No, I guess not….”

They fell silent, each studying each other. The elf was rather handsome; even as small as he was, but his outfit was…well it was not what he would have thought a real elf would wear. “Do you dress like that all the time?” He asked.

The elf glanced at his clothing, cramming the hat back on his platinum head. “Of course not! Ever heard of a holiday costume party?”

“Elves celebrate Christmas?” 

“Sure! We have the same holidays as humans with a few more to boot!”

“Do all fey creatures celebrate?”

“Most do, some hold to old ways.” Suddenly the elf looked guilty. “In fact some would be upset that I am talking to you. We are really supposed to stay hidden…”

“Then why are you?” Bard asked.

The elf hesitated. “Like I said, you have a nice voice…and I wanted a front row seat, I guess I kinda forgot myself.”

Bard couldn’t help but feel a bit smug at the complement. “My voice is that alluring…”

“Steady on mate, you’re not that good!” The elf snorted. “I like the Christmas song you were singing, so sue me!”

“I should charge you room and board!” The elf rolled his eyes at this. “Seriously, you lot are eating me out of house and home!’ Bard complained.

“You’re lucky we only raid the pantry! The dwarves are determined to get the fridge open.”

“Looks like I need to install fairy proof locks, what is it that fairies don’t like?” 

“Iron.” The elf said softly. “Iron burns and repels…” 

Bard’s smile faulted at the sad tone of the elf. “Well maybe I’ll just use old fashioned baby locks.” The elf gave him a weak smile. “Or maybe I will just be a good guy and overlook a few pilfered items.” The brilliant smile on the elf’s face made his stomach flutter. What the hell was that? He cleared his throat. “I guess I better start leaving milk out for the pixies then.”

“Oh my god,” the elf laughed. “They will love you to no end if you do!”

“Oh yeah?”

The elf leaned towards him, glancing around and whispered, “Yeah, it gets them drunk!”

“No way!?”

“God’s truth!” The elf held up two fingers solemnly.

“I’ll be damned. Who would have thought that?” Bard eyed the elf. “So does it make elves drunk?”

“Naw.” The elf reached behind the doll and pulled into view a bulging balloon. Bard could hear liquid sloshing in it. The elf patted it, “we prefer wine!” He grinned up at Bard.

“Why you cheeky Devil!”

“Elf!”

“Thief is more like it!” 

“Just a little one.” The elf winked. Bard chuckled. Out in the foyer the clock chimed three times. They both jumped. Had two hours really passed? It felt like only minutes had passed. The elf hefted the balloon over his shoulder.

“Well, I really should be going.” He glanced down and then back up to Bard. “They are probably wondering if something happened to me and…and you should finish filling those stockings…”

“Yeah…right…” Why did Bard not want the elf to leave? 

The elf took a deep breath. “Okay then…I better get going.” He moved to the decorative molding, pushed against it and a section swung open. He stepped towards the awaiting darkness.

“Wait!” Bard gasped out, the elf paused. “I have so many questions… will I see you again? I…I don’t even know your name!”

The elf looked over his shoulder at Bard, a shy smile flitting across his lips. “Thranduil, my name is Thranduil.” He chewed his lip before adding, “Maybe we’ll talk again.” With a cheeky smile he tipped his head at Bard, “Merry Christmas Bard!” and disappeared into the gap.

Bard called out “Merry Christmas Thranduil!” as the molding snapped shut leaving no trace, and leaving him wondering if he had imagined the whole thing and he had just been babbling to the elf doll? Bard rubbed his face, either way, he really needed to finish and go to bed. It was Christmas morning and Tilda would be up way too soon.

Merry Christmas!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudo's and comments are always a treat to get!


End file.
